pop writer



Big band leader Luis Casal shares a philosophy with British jazz artist Brian Auger: "Build a bigger, better band and they will come."

The Norman resident, OU doctoral candidate (music) and citizen of Panama is founder and director of our undisputed best Latin jazz ensemble: Orquesta Ron y Ritmo. Translation: Rum and Rhythm Orchestra.

Casal's collective of musicians has been a constantly morphing fiesta of old and new talent. Orquesta Ron y Ritmo's July 30 show at The Deli was to be Mark Wilcox's (trumpet) last of many and Boyd Littell's (percussion) first.

Casal's lady friend Anna Marie Noggle (soprano) was visiting, on leave from New York's DiCapo opera company. She joined the chorus for a night. Grizzled veteran Larry Hammett (bass) played with talented, budding vocalists Leslie Iglesia and Micki.

Stefan Ice (congas), Carina Joly (keys), Ricardo Souza (trap set), E.J. Lada (trombone) and Eric Walschap (saxophone) defined caliente. Several are Casal's Ph.D. classmates. "We're mostly all classically-trained," he said.

"Some friends asked me why I don't put a band together, so I called who I thought were the best musicians in town," Casal said. "They're professionals, some of whom are faculty or in the Oklahoma Philharmonic. It's an international group with members from Brazil, Colombia, two Panamanians and the United States. We do old standards and try to take it as seriously as we can. It's old school. We do rhythms that are kind of lost like cha-cha and mambo. You won't even hear them in my country or Venezuela," he said.

The Bronx's Eddie Palmieri, Juillard-educated charanga genius, was first in Casal's list of influences. "We'll also play some Buena Vista Social Club," Casal said.

"I also listen to old folk music from my country so I won't forget my roots. It's played with a little guitar called mejorana, then we have a set of drums called pujador, repicador and caja. There's a lot of poetry in Panamanian music. We have the biggest salsa star, Ruben Blades, and we'll play some of his music."

Casal's muses were touching. "I write songs that honor my girlfriend, family and country. Orquesta Ron y Ritmo will play a song I wrote just for Anna Marie called 'Princessa.' It's a bolero for a beautiful princess that's only been performed for a Japanese audience before tonight," he said.

Casal's life-changing records: "David Oistrak's 'Concerto for violin' by Sibelius, and one by Rabanes who mix the folk music of my country with rock 'n' roll."

Casal named the countries that have contributed most to salsa. "The United States definitely because it originated in New York. Also Cuba, Puerto Rico and all Central America."

New York City?!



Orquesta Ron y Ritmo

They began with a number named for Colombia's most popular recreational drug. "It's called caf?. Coffee," Casal said. It was a slow-drip percussion percolator. The tempo built like a three-cup buzz until the whole room was vibrating.

"Now we're going to play a romantic Cuban song. This is going to be kind of educational," Casal said with a wink. He taught the audience a "Juanita Bonita" chorus.

Casal alternated between conducting the orchestra, singing with a strong tenor and playing masterful violin. He's a natural. They played Tito Puente mamborama. The dancing trio of hot back-up vocalists made it spicy.

ORyR played brazen Bogat? salsa. "Once again, let them improvise!" Casal loudly proclaimed over the music. Youngest member Walschap popped a sensational sax solo. The dance floor was crowded hip to hip. Casal sang some mad Spanish skat, high over the Panamanian moon.

They played a Cuban folk music classic. Casal's violin went up then hung like a shooting star. Princess Anna Marie sang a solo in the song honoring her highness. You can take the girl out of opera, but you can't take opera out of the girl. She had perfect pitch powered by titanium-strength pipes. Noggle's a Toledo, Ohio, export.

ORyR began the second set with an unexpected tune by Ani DiFranco. Wilcox's goodbye kiss was a brass smack. Casal danced like he was in the movies, slapping the heels of his shoes. He wound down with Puente's "Oye Como Va," saving The Deli from spontaneous combustion. "Viva Panama," someone cried. Casal agreed with gusto.